Winnie, Not Winifred

02 | Eating Sunshine and Crapping Rainbows

"As far as first days go," I said to Heidi as we walked down the hallway toward her locker. "I think today's gone pretty well. My classes aren't too bad."

I knew that wasn't saying much, considering first days mostly consisted of entire-class-period-long discussions of syllabuses and those God-awful get-to-know-you games. But, I had already made a new friend, which, contrary to my nonchalant facade, was a feat I had worked up quite a bit of anxiety over during the eleven-hour car ride from North Carolina.

I skipped up to Heidi's locker and grinned at her as she put in her combination. She made a face at me. "A good first day, huh? Even after walking in here looking like something out of The Walking Dead?" She shook her head with a chuckle. "Oh! And my friend Taylor told me that in English you were like, "Hey, watch this!" before you did a weird dance and kicked Matthew's water bottle into a wall."

I laughed. "Yeah, that was pretty funny. He told me he wanted a new one anyway, so it's all good." I reassured her.

"Winnie, I swear to God, you're the weirdest person I've ever met," she remarked as she set a book in her locker.

"While that is far from the first time I have heard that, I appreciate the compliment all the same," I said with a bow. "Now, about my schedule."

"Ahh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Give it here." She slammed her locker shut as I pulled the schedule from my bag and held it out for her to examine. I half-expected her to screech, "my precious!" with the way her eyes greedily ran over the paper.

"Wait, you're in theatre too?" she asked, eyes lighting up.

"Oh, yeah. They threw me in there because I enrolled late and all the other electives were already full. I'm kinda excited about it, though. I am—" I corrected myself. "—used to be an outdoorsy kind of gal, but I think it'll be fun to give acting a shot. I mean, why not?"

No regerts.

I'd never been particularly interested in acting or theatre before, but I had no aversion to trying it out. After all, my dad had always said I was a trier.

When I was five, we traveled to Hilton Head for summer vacation and I wanted to try rare tuna at a seafood restaurant, even after my parents were all like, "Honey, are you sure you want that?" I ate it anyway and I loved it so much, I ordered it every summer vacation post-try. After that, my dad dubbed me—Winifred Merle—a trier.

"We're in the same theatre class, Winnie!" Heidi squealed suddenly, snapping me out of my daze. "Wait, this is so exciting! I love drama. It's like my actual life. My mom's too, so," she sighed. "Oh my gosh, there's so much I can teach you."

"Well, if I had even a hint of hesitation before, I certainly don't anymore," I replied with a chuckle, referring to her dramatics. "Now I can't wait."

Having no experience, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect upon entering a theatre classroom, but I had guessed a big, echoey room or a decent-sized black box theatre would be the space of choice. Boy, was I mistaken.

The first thing to note upon entering the theatre classroom of Contraire High School was just how small and cluttered the little room was. In my condition, I was certainly no stranger to disappointment and I had to admit, disappointment itself seemed to be seeping from the classroom's cracked, missing, and mildew-stained ceiling tiles.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" I whispered, turning to Heidi as we navigated past racks with colorful costumes lining them. "Is this a storage room?"

"Nope. This is it," she responded, carefully stepping over what appeared to be a papier-mâché boulder. She stopped in her tracks suddenly.

"Heidi Miller, is that you?" A young-looking woman stood, akimbo, looking Heidi up and down with playful eyes. Heidi ran over and hugged her. The woman pulled away from Heidi before turning to face me. She smiled a warm, toothy grin and scooped me up in a tight hug as well.